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Commentaries on the Fourth War, Chapter 3
This is Chapter 3 'of Sir Edrington W. Grunwald's book, the 'Commentaries on the Fourth War. Chapter 3: Escalation Now, I do not pretend to present the Alliance or the Horde as monolithic entities that acted all the same and responded unanimously to one another’s advances. I merely generalize for the sake of brevity, but I will nonetheless take the time now to pinpoint critical moments of escalation during the interwar period and demonstrate the slow but steady march to confrontation. As such, this chapter will feature a great deal of text on diplomatic and military affairs, including personal experiences as a participant in some of these skirmishes. Furthermore, as mentioned during the conclusion of the previous chapter, I expand upon the argument that the Horde began the process of escalation first with their aggressive mining of Azerite in the Silithus badlands. However, I hope to also rationalize this action – take note, I do not attempt to justify the Horde as either ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ in their endeavors – in the context of the post-war setting. Either way, above all else, I conclusively show in this chapter that, although certain elements of the Alliance continued to press for a ‘tit-for-tat’ strategy against the Horde’s advances, King Anduin and his faction of supporters demonstrated a considerable amount of restraint and desire to maintain the status quo. In the end, however, the final act that propelled us to war was done so by the Horde with the Burning of Teldrassil. How the Alliance and Horde arrived at such a violent state of affairs is crucial in understanding the motives for war. First, I begin with the Horde’s extensive mining operations in Silithus. When word reached the ear of His Majesty that the Horde had started the extraction of Azerite, a then-unknown mineral, forward elements of His Majesty’s service were deployed to confirm this information. I, as a Knight-Captain in His Grace’s First Regiment of Westridge, traveled with my troops to the continent, making landfall after a terrible encounter with sea monsters and horrid storms forced us to wash up on the western coasts. Struggling to survive, but not altogether unfamiliar with this sort of hardship, we eventually made our way deep into the badlands. The destruction caused by the blade was extraordinary and cataclysmic. The land itself looked and felt tainted, with veins of Azerite crackling out of the ground coupled with pulsing veins of devilish-looking energies. We engaged not only with the occasional Horde patrols but also the remnants of some of Silithus’ denizens, namely those foul insects known as the Silithid and, surprisingly, scattered elements of old cults once thought destroyed in the wake of the Great Cataclysm. At the end of our campaign, we had successfully gathered samples of the mysterious ore and vital intelligence on the Horde’s operations in the region. It was shortly after returning from Silithus that I, having suffered a grave injury that resulted in the amputation of my left leg, retired from His Majesty’s Royal Army and took up my charge as a knight-protector in southern Elwynn. As for the intrepid First, their actions in Silithus, alongside those of many other organizations loyal and in service to the Crown and the Grand Alliance, uncovered a great deal about Azerite and the Horde’s work in Silithus. As new veins of the crystal broke out throughout the realm, the Horde was no longer the first to arrive. The first, if small, skirmishes between both factions transpired over these new fields of the potent crystal, with the Horde still arguably holding a real material advantage. This presents the first step of escalation: The Horde began the process of Azerite mining, and I argue aggressively so, leading the Alliance to intervene. Even as the men and women of peerage in the courts puzzled out the impact and importance of Azerite in those late winter months, they concluded that the Horde’s deep interest in the crystal warranted immediate and firm response. When the Alliance thus began to engage heavily in the mining and collection of Azerite, the Horde proceeded then to begin the next step in escalation: the reinforcement of its trade lanes and borderlands. If the Horde was to maintain some level of advantage over their competitors across the Great Sea, it would have to take the initiative. This is a sound strategic move, but it suggests that the Horde, particularly those factions under the guidance of the Queen Sylvanas, was prepared to threaten a confrontation with the Alliance. The logic behind this assumption is simple: I argue the Horde did not think they could keep the secret of Azerite or their mining of the substance. Instead, I propose that Queen Sylvanas understood that short-term secrecy would gain her a sizable material advantage, all the meanwhile preparing contingencies for the inevitable resource war that would come when the Alliance found out. And so, the confrontation began. Initially, as was the case during the War on Pandaria, Alliance and Horde navies traded blows in open waters, particularly to the north and south of Kalimdor. There, navy vessels flying the colors of Stormwind, Kul Tiras, and Darnassus prowled the waters of the Great Sea and, eventually, took hauls of Azerite for study and research in the Eastern Kingdoms. In response, Horde ships quickly intercepted these convoys, triggering a more significant response from the Alliance. That response came in the form of a campaign to the province of Feralas. Already having retired, I did not take up arms during the fighting in Feralas. Instead, I rely on records compiled with army chroniclers and fellow comrades willing to speak on their experiences during the fighting there. The push to Feralas began in response to news spreading that new Azerite veins had been seen sprouting out of the earth there. This no doubt proved to be to the Horde’s chagrin, as more Azerite meant that the Horde’s resources would have to be spread out across a larger front. For the Alliance, this was excellent news – Feralas, although somewhat contested, boasted a reasonably strong kaldorei presence by way of Feathermoon Stronghold. Still, the land had been and still is relatively untamed, meaning that any prolonged campaign there would prove costly in a logistical sense. Nevertheless, this being one of the first battles fought in the interwar period, the numbers fielded by both sides were reasonably small. In all, it is estimated the Alliance gathered a total of 2,000 soldiers, with the Horde marshaling a greater advantage due to the relative closeness of Feralas to their heartland. Although vague, most reports place the Horde’s figures at around 3,000 or 4,000. Again, I emphasize the relatively small size of this engagement – at least when compared to the later battles of the Fourth War. Both sides, I argue, still displayed a degree of hesitancy in deploying a great number of soldiers to the Feralas engagement. Logistical complications for the Alliance aside, it is fair and reasonable to assume that His Majesty, King Anduin, was interested in acquiring and securing more sources of Azerite but, in equal measure, unwilling to provoke a stronger response from the Warchief. Nevertheless, Queen Sylvanas’ troops marshaled rapidly and took the battlefield with lightning speed. While the Alliance focused on key locations throughout the province, the Horde was able to muster both a quantitative and qualitative advantage at every turn. Veterans of the long war both against the Alliance and the Burning Legion alike, these warriors fought back the Alliance at almost every engagement. In the end, the first confrontation of the interwar period ended in a defeat for the soldiers under the Lion’s banner, forcing them to give ground and retreat from Feralas. From that point onward, the political situation deteriorated rapidly. Although the Alliance and the Horde were not yet in an open state of war, the status quo could hardly be described as peaceful. It was during this time that His Majesty, King Anduin, in an effort perhaps to stall any further descent in Alliance-Horde relations, penned his invitation to parley with Queen Sylvanas, Warchief of the Horde. The document, at least in its general form, broadly focused on two key points: the tenuous relations between the two factions and the nature of Azerite. It was evident then to His Majesty that, although this document did not represent “an offer of peace,” he did emphasize the act as a “smaller but no less important gesture of unity as a first step toward a potential future that benefits both the Horde and the Alliance.” The parameters of the invitation itself consisted of a cease-fire that would allow for the safe gathering of families split by undeath and conflict during the Third War. The Gathering, as it is more commonly known, took place in the plains lands of Arathi on the borderlands between Horde and Alliance territory in the northlands of the Eastern Kingdoms. I express no doubt that His Majesty’s hopes, which may have been interpreted as naive or weak by his political opponents in Stormwind City, were earnest and sincere. At risk of presenting bias, I argue that Queen Sylvanas’ intentions going into this ceasefire were less so – perhaps seeking to show herself as merciful to those among the Horde who doubted her. However, instead of a happy reunion, what transpired marked yet another step in the steady escalation towards war. For on those fields on that hot summer day, as old families met once again after years of separation, some schism formed that turned the mood from joyful to deadly within the hour. Royal observers described the scene as follows: the mob of people, attendants from both the Alliance and the Horde, namely humans and undead, slowly shifted towards the walls of Stromgarde. A flock of Forsaken, guided along by the heir-apparent of Lordaeron, Princess Calia of House Menethil, sought refuge among the Alliance. Whether or not the Alliance, at the behest of His Majesty, would accept these undead is unknown, but what is known is that Queen Sylvanas would not tolerate this change of heart. A swarm of great bats, upon them servants of the Banshee Queen, descended upon the gathering with speed. Missile fire rained down, striking down all undead that made their way to both Alliance and Horde lines. Even Princess Calia herself was caught in the crossfire, mortally wounded in the process. Word, perhaps rumor laced with some truth, spread that she was saved by His Majesty and his attendants on the scene, including the fallen Alonsus Faol, former Archbishop of the Church of the Holy Light and Father of the Paladin Orders. Nevertheless, the consequences of this calamity, at least what is known to be accurate and well understood by the historians of my time, cannot be overstated. Although arguments may be levied in favor of the Banshee Queen’s distaste at what she perceived as open treason, her barbarism and brutality speak volumes of her character. It is clear now, as it was when she first took the mantle of Banshee Queen, that her rule is one governed by an iron fist. Negotiations after the Gathering Massacre ground to a halt. Fighting once again escalated around midsummer, as new offensives were launched along dangerous borderlands. Again, I hesitate to describe these battles as anything more than border skirmishes, but I do not undermine the severity of what they meant for the overall stability of the realm. Of note is the confrontation in Ashenvale, which was less of a fight over precious resources and more of a battle of position. Following the death of a tauren from the Highmountain tribe, whose intent is still shrouded in mystery to this day, the Horde mobilized forces along their border. This prompted the kaldorei of the region to call for aide from the greater Alliance. With Ashenvale so close to the Horde’s de facto capital of Orgrimmar, it is no surprise that the Banshee Queen and her advisers quickly sent legions to reinforce that area. I was among the number who went west to assist in Kalimdor, serving alongside the levy of my battle-brother and commander, Sir Markus Stonewall. Sir Markus had spoken to me of developments abroad, and ‘twas he who coaxed me out of my retirement to, at the very least, lend my abilities and skills to the warfront once more. Upon arrival to the forests of Ashenvale, a thick scent of burning wood permeated the air. The whole of the land suffered under the strain of prolonged combat with the Horde, as lines, flexible and imperfect as they were, shifted around with every passing hour. What few pitched encounters we could make, the results were incredibly tit-for-tat. Where Alliance forces scored one victory, the Horde quick capitalized elsewhere. In the end, our estimate forces of around 5,000 were able to hold back any advances from the Horde’s roughly similar 5,000 or 6,000. Although unable to cut off their routes of supply across the river, the Horde advance into Astranaar, the kaldorei’s regional capital, was stopped by the forces of the Alliance. However, after major actions concluded, the remnants of both sides devolved into nothing more than raiding parties and warbands intent on falling upon the first sight of the foe. In the end, the status quo of indefinite stalemate remained, and more kindling was added to the already roaring fire. But before I continue to my closing remarks in this chapter, I wish to comment on the attitudes and conduct of Alliance commanders during these battles. If nothing else is telling of the tensions rife during the war season, as spring turned to summer, then the politicking and oversight I witnessed attest to the effects of the fighting on the minds of otherwise rational and civilized individuals. The commanders of our forces in Ashenvale were of a mercurial nature, composed of equal parts valor, unabashed snivelry, blinding prejudices, and confused motivations. For I saw valiant charges and foolish blunders, shining character and sordid attitudes, stalwart composure and incendiary spirits burned alight by the slightest mockery or jeer. If I have witnessed one great weakness and hypocrisy characteristic of our noble union, it is this: we are allied, yes, but seemingly only in name. Missing from this is the rampant barbarisms and heresies characteristic of the less civilized races of the Horde – and there, reader, I comment on our actions during these campaigns and call attention to them as a warning. For if this generation, and any future ones for that matter, expect victory in war, then they cannot expect success if they fail to carry the burdens of civilization properly – with dignity, honor, and moral soundness. If nothing else, putting an end to the childish conduct I saw on the fronts of Kalimdor, unbefitting of people in such high stations, will grant us the necessary cohesion to muster the spirit and motivation required to fight this next great conflagration to some certain end. Nevertheless, even as passions ran high during those months, I argue with certainty, as I have before, that His Majesty and those most closely aligned with him maintained admirable composure in the face of mounting opposition at home and abroad. For as the fields of Feralas were cracked asunder by Azerite and fighting alike, as the forests of Ashenvale burned, and the bodies of families broken by war were laid to rest in the Highlands of Arathor, the final nail in the coffin of coexistence was driven in by Queen Sylvanas herself. That nail was, without any doubt, the Burning of Teldrassil. But why commit such a heinous act that would guarantee conflict throughout the realm? Why did the Banshee Queen so willingly thrust her peoples into the fires of war? To begin understanding the Banshee Queen’s motives, and one should not discount reason even among the undead, I look to the position of the Horde in the interwar period. In doing so, I examine three key points: a temporary economic advantage, weak support at home for the Queen’s reign, and the militant expansionism of the Forsaken as a whole. After that, I reinforce the notion that although more militant factions in the Alliance readily engaged the Horde in escalation, the key shift in the Alliance’s readiness for conflict did not occur until after the Burning of Teldrassil. Only then do I argue that it became the agenda of His Majesty and other key leaders to counter the Horde’s rampant militarism. First, I cannot overstate the advantage the Horde gained by capitalizing on Azerite first. Although the secret of these operations in Silithus was discovered as early as late winter in 628, these months of relative silence allowed for a veritable Horde monopoly of Azerite. As I compile this work, I can only speak with some degree of hindsight regarding the advantages this early initiative gave the Horde. Technological innovation aside, which has traditionally been the calling of engineers amongst the goblins, the sheer intensity of the mining operations that were discovered in Silithus speak to the greater strategy of Queen Sylvanas in those first few months of Azerite’s discovery: mine first, ask questions later. With such vast quantities gathered, that stockpile would have no doubt given the Banshee Queen a considerable technological and economic advantage. As Azerite’s worth was still being speculated, the Horde was in a position of strength in that early market, able to control the influx of Azerite into the world’s economy. Therefore, I suggest Queen Sylvanas, not one to ignore such an advantage, formulated a strategy of aggression that would escalate to open war with the Alliance on her terms. In other words, if the Horde were to fight the Alliance, it would be they who fired the first shot, thus yielding them the would-be advantage of the initial blow and early mobilization. Furthermore, let us not ignore one further point, although more economical in nature: comparing the Horde’s economy versus that of the Alliance in the scenario of a long-term war. Without delving into a profound treatise on the strengths and weaknesses of each faction’s overall economic power, I argue that the Horde cannot, in the long term, mobilize the necessary capital to wage a prolonged conflict, unlike the Alliance. Now, to be fair, both the Alliance and the Horde are composed primarily of what scholars call ‘command economies’ – where most member-nations centrally control prices, trade, and sectors of industry within their respective borders. This is still a broad generalization, as the Human Kingdoms have innovated on decentralized markets and a greater increase in private trading companies. Or even the dwarves and pandaren, well known for their strong dependence on guild memberships to organize sectors of labor and extensive international trade. The same goes for the Horde, where goblins have provided stiff competition in engineering technologies and free private trade. However, in the greater scope, I argue the Alliance’s potential for economic innovation is greater than that of the Horde’s. This is due to the one major advantage the Alliance’s markets have over the Horde’s: versatility in peacetime and the capacity for greater centralization in wartime. While all members of the Alliance boast considerable say in the governance of the faction, it is no great leap to state that the position of ‘High King,’ typically held by human sovereigns, allows for a greater deal of control when compared to the Warchief of the Horde. For let us all remember that the New Horde, structured by the first Warchief Thrall, was always intended to be a loose confederacy of allied states, opposed then to the Burning Legion and the potential for war against the remnants of the Alliance of Lordaeron. By this definition, although individual member-nations of the Horde may be self-sufficient, they cannot organize to the degree Alliance nations can as a single unit should war break out. Specifically, let us delve into the weaknesses of the Horde nations. The orcs have boasted good craftsmen for years, responsible for crucial innovations within the Horde in metallurgy and arms-making. However, while they also have a reasonably healthy agricultural sector, I speculate a great deal of their agrarian product comes from the neighboring tauren. Speaking of them, the tauren, an even looser union of semi-nomadic tribes residing in Mulgore, cannot muster the necessary capital to contribute much else besides strong agriculture. They have the weakest of economies in the Horde, no doubt relying on their orcish and troll neighbors for all other items they cannot produce. On the note of trolls, their economy has always been very tribalistic and isolationist in nature. Besides levying warrior-folk, combined with a primitive craftsman’s economy, they have a weak centralized economy incapable of mobilizing substantial contributions for any greater war effort among the Horde. The strongest contenders for the healthiest economies among the Horde are, unsurprisingly, the goblins, undead, and blood elves – though I include the latter with hesitancy. The first I have discussed already and the second boasts prime status among the Horde member-nations, thus holding considerable weight in commanding the economy of the confederacy along with their own substantial production of finished alchemical goods and arms. The blood elves, although bountiful and rich in their craft industries and arcane knowledge, are perhaps too insular to provide any substantial benefits to the greater confederate economy. In this sense, I view their isolated position in the Eastern Kingdoms as rendering them limited to giving anything else beyond military aide when necessary. As a result, I propose that the Horde’s initiation of the Fourth War was as much a political move as it was one of economic survival. With little opportunity to host a prolonged war, due to the inherent weaknesses of many tribalistic economies unable to expand far beyond their present scope, Queen Sylvanas judged the possibility of a protracted war untenable and opted instead for a rapid, initial strike that would hopefully cripple the Alliance’s will to fight. That strike was the Horde’s offensive on the Alliance’s closest ally in Kalimdor – the kaldorei people – and their ancestral home of Teldrassil. This was undoubtedly as much a strategic move as it was an attack aimed at devastating the spirit of the kaldorei and the Alliance. Adding the two other points, the disdain among the Horde for Queen Sylvanas’ reign and the militant expansion of the Forsaken, forms a complete picture of the Horde’s interwar position. Since the Queen’s invasion of the Kingdom of Gilneas and her extensive use of the Plague, what reports come to us from Horde indicate general discontent with her actions. Her strong-arming, perhaps a stratagem aiming to secure her relatively isolated position in the east, has rebuffed every major offensive into the north and alienated some of her allies. It is no surprise that Queen Sylvanas opted to take the lead in escalating the conflict against the Alliance, to maintain a level of dominance and aggression in the eyes of the Horde. I argue that she merely remobilized the goals of her people, the undead, to fit the larger framework of the Horde confederacy. With new threats rising in the west, particularly around the Silithus Crater, it was not merely the survival of the Forsaken that was at stake – it was the Horde itself that was under siege. All these points taken into consideration, the Horde’s casus-belli capitalizes on fear and careful calculation; Queen Sylvanas saw the benefits of her present economic situation, the weaknesses of the Horde’s capacity to wage a prolonged war, and the tenuous position she held among the Horde. She needed to gain an initial victory to secure her rule and capitalize on what advantages she had. That blow came with the Burning of Teldrassil – and so began the Fourth War. Category:Books Category:History Category:Blood War